Sword Trouble With Trunks
by Moosmoos
Summary: Have you ever wondered how Trunks keeps his sword so shiny? Probably not. But after owning a sword of my own, I find out the hard way about taking care of those ancient weapons.


"Ugh…no more flying for me today…" I groaned as we staggered together to dinner. Trunks nodded in agreement. It's been a week after destroying the Androids and we were still stuck underground. Well, I meant the basement. The kitchen, rooms, furniture…everything was still down there. I smelled pork as I lay the groceries on the table. It took us three days to visit the next city which also had been blown up by those robots and another two to find a different one. Plus, the route back didn't take at least two more days.

"Ah! You guys finally came back!" Bulma cried, "I just finished baking the last of the leftover pork! Let's all join for dinner." The pork was really good considering that both of us were starving.

"I can't believe those Androids destroyed the next town too," Trunks mumbled, "You can't even tell if there was a city with all the smoke around."

"I'll think about it after I take a nap…"I yawned and pushed everything else in the fridge, "Good night."

…...

I found a sword at my bed last night. No wonder I thought the pillow seemed to be awfully thin and hard. Apparently, Bulma had given me a sword for a "birthday present" even though she didn't know when it was. I didn't know either, but I still accepted it. My fright for swords has gone away since Shen Long couldn't contact me anymore via dragonball so I was pretty much done on that fact. Still, that hunk of metal is a troublesome one.

"Mirao, I have a question…" I called as I walked into the laboratory where he was working on a new portable battery pack for his time machine, "How is your sword so shiny?" Trunks turned around while wiping his hands off with a towel.

"I take care of it," he answered, "Why?"

"Oh, no reason…" I replied, "It's just…well, it looks nice."

"I bet my enemies won't think so," Trunks smirked. I laughed and watched as Trunks went back to work. Bulma came in while carrying two smoothies.

"Trunks, how's your project going?" she asked as she set those on the table.

"It's fine Mother," he answered as he turned around again, "The battery is almost done. All I need to do now is to connect the electron disc to the defibrillator."

"That's my smart boy," Bulma smiled and ruffled his hair, "I knew you can do it!" I left Trunks and Bulma to their charade and trained in my room. I would help building their fancy gadgets but the last time I tried to join, I kind of blew up the laboratory. It was embarrassing.

…

Scrub.

Scrub.

Scrub.

Sigh.

"Um…Esther…what ARE you doing?" Trunks asked as he opened my door. I looked up and noticed he had a sweatdrop forming in the side of his head.

"Isn't it obvious?" I groaned and resumed scrubbing from the middle of my bed, "I'm trying to get the rust off!"

"With a shoe scrubber?" he asked skeptically.

"I couldn't find anything else!" I argued and kept on going. I gave up and dumped the brush to the floor and wiped the blade off.

"It's a disgrace! Nobody wants to get killed by a rusty sword!" I pointed and the towel joined the shoe brush. Trunks stared and sat down next to me.

"I think nobody wants to get killed in the first place."

"Whatever."

"Try this," he said as he handed me a bottle, "It's WD 40. I don't use it but I think it may help."

I sprayed it on. After waiting five minutes, I wiped it off. Still rusty.

"Not working."

I sheathed it and pulled it out. "And it smells bad!" I exclaimed while wrinkling my nose.

"Okay, no more of that," Trunks suggested as he took the stuff out of my hands, "Let's use sandpaper." I scrubbed again rather reluctantly.

Scrape.

Scrape.

"It's scratching the blade!" I cried in horror. Part of the sword was now streaked with shiny webbed lines that won't come off. I glared at Trunks.

"Sorry…" he murmured nervously.

…...

I was right about a stinky sword. When soldiers from a different city confronted us claiming we were the terribly destructive robots, the only thing I had to do was draw out my sword. Within two seconds flat, everyone fainted besides Trunks who held his nose.

Go figure. Back to now. Anyway, we were all gathered around the dinner table eating chicken and rice. I was in a considerably bad mood but still kept myself busy by pondering about yesterday's stinky sword accident and the way to clean it off.

"Do I have to repeatedly kill people every day to keep my sword rust free?" I growled and stabbed the chicken leg with my fork.

"What do you mean?" Trunks asked.

"I don't know…maybe the iron in the blood might clean it off or something," I continued. Both Bulma and Trunk's faces drained of color.

"I don't think so," Trunks finally commented.

"Or maybe I have to run it through someone's gut…" I murmured.

"Why in the world would you do that?" Bulma grimaced as both of their faces now turned green.

"The acid might absorb the rust," I replied still stabbing the chicken, "It sounds more realistic."

"No." they both said firmly.

"Okay, okay…" I sighed, "So what do you guys propose?" Bulma got up, looked in the cabinets, drew out a bottle, and slammed it on the table.

"Distilled white vinegar," she sighed, "wipe the sword off with soapy water, add the vinegar, wait for ten minutes, wash it off again, and add WD 40 to prevent it from rusting."

"So you gave me something to prevent rust!" I shouted at Trunks, "Not take it off!"

"Sorry."

…...

"Aaaargh! You gotta be kidding me!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, "What did I do wrong?" Trunks opened my door yawning sleepily, "What's wrong?"

"It's the suggestions of you and Bulma! That's wrong!"

"Why can't you do it later? It's three o' clock in the morning," he sighed.

"I want it to look nice!" I retorted. He stared at my sword and back at me.

"Are you sure you did it right?" he finally asked.

"Of course I did," I answered angrily and started to count on my fingers, "I made sure I rinsed the sword with soapy water, I added vinegar and let it soak for exactly ten minutes…" I pointed to the stopwatch on the small desk, "…I washed it all off again, and look at it! The blade's yellow! Bright yellow! With water marks! It's like Frankenstein threw up on it and forgot to wipe my poor sword off!"

"You're overstating it," Trunks said, "Frankenstein did not throw up on your sword. Besides, you might want to replace the word yellow with gold. It's not too bad."

"Gold is seriously over the line," I argued, "It's mustard yellow. No shininess seen."

"It's a sword. The main purpose of a sword is for arming yourself. How it looks isn't really important."

"Are you kidding me?" I gawked in disbelief, "It's very important! It's states whether the bearer is careful and clean. It states whether the person keeps her things in great condition or not. It's states whether that person's mind is sharp and crystal clear in her intentions. And right now my sword is stating that I am a sloppy, crazy, messy, and lazy. Just look at it! The blades encrusted in red rust, drooled on with those mustard yellow water marks, and stinks with WD 40 plus the fact that I probably forgot my sword wasn't part of that tomato salad. It horrible, disgusting, disgraceful…"

"I'm going back to bed," he grumbled completely cutting me off, "We can pick up the argument tomorrow."

"Hold on there Trunks…" I started but he already left, "Get back here!"

...

I twirled my sword in the air, completely forgetting it was sharp. I accidently sliced a hole 3 feet deep in my bed.

"Here," Trunks started as he walked into my room, "I got metal polish from the lab. It may be useful."

"No more experimenting with my sword," I huffed and turned away from him, "My weapon is hideous enough."

"Trust me on this one," Trunks said.

"Fine. What do I do?" I asked while eyeing the bottle of green liquid.

"Okay. Rinse your sword off, add this, and scrub with that shoe brush. It should work," he instructed.

"Right," I murmured.

...

"Now it really looks like Frankenstein threw up on it," I murmured under my breath, "People seriously need to make things that actually work from now on." I sheathed it just as Trunks knocked the door.

"Come in," I called and yelped when I saw what he was carrying, "Whoa, what's that?"

"I made a stand for your sword," he said, "I have one in my room too and thought you'd like one." I stared at it as he put it down. It had a dragon etched in the wood and two pairs of hooks for like leaving your sword half out.

"Great. Now I have to display my mummified sword to the rest of the world," I mumbled sarcastically and unsheathe the my weapon out halfway.

"!" Trunks gasped in horror and disbelief, "How did that happen?" I looked at it.

"It's an ugly green tinge huh," I nodded, "your metal polish added another color to that coat of..." I covered my nose since the smell was giving a migraine, "...stench."

"Ugh...look," Trunks said while adjusting the stand, "You can put your sword just like that." He took my weapon and placed it on the display.

"You don't have to show the blade."

We both stared at each other.

"You know what," I stood up, "I'm just going to try bleaching it."

"Wait..." Trunks started but then the door came flying outward, hitting Trunks in the back of the head.

"Oh sorry Trunks," Bulma cried and checked him carefully, "Are you okay?"

"I-I'm fine Mother..." Trunks rubbed the sore spot, "So, what's up?"

"I figured out how to keep the time line from shifting when using the time machine!" Bulma exclaimed, "I drew some plans but I still need someone to help me build the part for the ship."

"That's great!" Trunks cheered, "I'll join you immediately. Esther, bleaching is bad for your sword by the way."

"So what about vinegar?" I retorted. Trunks and Bulma looked at each other.

"Bleaching is worse."

...

"We will rise again..." I sang as I scrubbed my sword hard, "Don't stop don't stop we're in luck now, don't stop don't stop there's much to be found. Earth is my paradise..."

Slam.

"And it will be mine too if you can PLEASE quiet down," Trunks appeared at my door looked bedraggled and exhausted, "You have a beautiful voice but some of us need the sleep."

"Okay," I sighed. He stared at me.

"Are you still at that sword?" Trunks asked.

"Yup."

"With a toothbrush?"

"Yup."

"That is a good thing to use..." Trunks added, "for your teeth."

"Haha," I laughed sarcastically, "No. Instead of bleaching my sword, I thought of something definitely a lot safer. Take a look." I held the blade in front of him.

"Toothpaste?" Trunks inquired.

"Yup."

"That's just to um...freshen it up right?" He commented.

"You have such a good sense of humor sometimes Mirao," I rolled my eyes, "I heard that toothpaste had some stain cleaning agents inside and if it's safe enough to use for your mouth, I assume it would be safe enough for my sword. And look! The mustard yellow, and that tinge of green disappeared! Only thing left is water marks and brown rust. Not bad huh?"

"Great. Now excuse me I only have two hours till sunrise and I'd like to put those two hours to good use. So good...morning." I watched him close the door and resumed keeping maintenance to my sword. People really don't appreciate music at night.


End file.
